


Armed Robbery

by irislim



Category: Pride and Prejudice (1995), Pride and Prejudice (2005), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Danger, F/M, Regency, Robbery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-04-24 02:51:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14346438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irislim/pseuds/irislim
Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged that a new family of great fortune must be in want of some robbing. Unfortunately for this family, their salvation lies in the hands of two unhappy partners. An alternate interruption of Jane and Lizzy's Netherfield stay.





	1. Chapter 1

It was the third night of our residence here, and hence the third night as well, alas, of forbearing Netherfield's measly offerings with regards to company. Jane, dear as ever, had improved dramatically - though not dramatically enough, unfortunately, to warrant her venturing beyond the few rooms we had entered since our first night here. Mr. Bingley proved as attentive as ever; Mr. Darcy as stoic.

Miss Bingley, whenever she deigned capturing my attention a more worthwhile - or, perhaps, more plausible - pursuit than acting similarly towards her brother's friend, coaxed me often into mundane conversations regarding the color of the room, the state of her gown, or the latest styles of hair. My book, while a welcome refuge, could replace our hosts' attentions only to a certain degree - and I found myself repeatedly trapped into discussions for which I cared little.

"Miss Bennet, are you well? Perhaps some tea?" Mr. Bingley doted nearly as much as Mama did. His face was all sincerity, however, and I could not begrudge the care he tendered towards Jane. Perhaps matches of which both the family and the bride approved could come to pass, after all.

"Eliza, dear, is not Mr. Darcy's reading most exquisite?" Jane's gentle coughs and remarks of thanks could not, most unfortunately, mute Miss Bingley's constant adulations of Mr. Darcy's many talents. The latter persisted most tenaciously. "I dare say every man ought to read his letters as quietly and as solemnly as he does."

I could not thwart my giggle, though I disguised it as the clearing of my throat instead.

"Yes, Miss Bingley. Mr. Darcy is stately indeed."

The subject of our conversation looked up slightly and met my eyes. I did not look away.

"Do you not agree, sir? When two ladies agree upon your virtues, it is hardly kind to digress," I noted rather playfully. Mr. Darcy, of course, did not smile back.

"I do not read so deliberately," he replied gruffly, before restoring his eyes to his papers.

I sighed, as I was wont to do when my sparring companions refused to spar further. I blamed him little, I had to admit - for his sister's letters were surely far more entertaining than his present company could have been.

"Eliza, he appears to disagree with you." Miss Bingley's unabashed irony was almost funny, if it had not been so cloying.

"It appears so,  _Miss Bingley_."

The room fell silent once more, save for Mr. Hurst's snoring and Mr. Bingley's ever-belligerent inquiries regarding Jane's health.

Mr. Darcy read and folded. I watched people and sipped tea. Mr. Bingley served and cooed. Jane thanked and demurred. Miss Bingley fretted and sighed.

The picture of domesticity we painted, however farcical, was fine-tuned indeed. Every man and woman played its own role in one well-timed routine. Our sequences, chosen or prescribed, settled deep within our bones.

It was to everyone's grave surprise, therefore, when unexpected company - fully armed - burst into the sitting room.

"Still! Don't move lest we take yer lives as well!" The leader - or, simply, the man in front - barked forcefully. We each shrank back against our chosen seats. My hand found Jane's. She faintly gripped me back.

The brown-haired man, slim and tall, was quickly followed by two others - one larger and one younger. Their tattered garments, composed of multiple fabrics and colors and shades, hinted at vagabond lives of danger. Their stances of anger and aggression brooked no argument. The pistols in their hands left far less room for dissent.

"You!" The leader pointed his firearm between a quaking Mr. Bingley and a scowling Mr. Darcy. "Bo, King - take them."

* * *

"Jane!" I cried when our captor's careless shoving sent us toppling into the attic room. The dust caused Jane to cough and me to blink. I forced my hands still to support a clearly struggling Jane.

"Sir, have mercy." I turned back in anger. The man - no, the boy - who had been tasked to escort us seemed adequately frightened by the force of my voice. His frame, carrying with it all the gangly effects of youth, seemed to quiver slightly. I took my chance. "My sister is ill. Do not abuse her so."

"Yes," he muttered, hovering by the entrance to this godforsaken room.

I frowned, feeling trapped yet oddly able to glimpse our freedom. The trio of men that had first accosted us had split up the company quickly. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley had been quickly subdued by the band's graceful leader - simply by way of aiming his pistols at Miss Bingley, then at us. Mr. Hurst, barely moving, was quickly assigned to the burly strongman with a gash on his cheek. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley followed.

Through the entire debacle, no names had been muttered - no identities given. The intruders did not state their purpose beyond the need to see Mr. Bingley, master of Netherfield.

I could only hope that they would be satisfied with whatever information they needed from our poor host without extracting his life.

Our stay at Netherfield could not be allowed to end so ill.

"Is it the fever?" Our jailer's voice was high, a true tenor's even in spoken words.

I followed his eyes towards Jane's shaking, coughing figure.

I hoped - with all my being - that the boy was simply a boy.

"You know of scarlet fever?" I looked at him. The young man shuffled; his eyes lowered. I sighed softly. My subsequent lie, I prayed was justified. "My sister is gravely ill, sir. I know not how long she would last without a doctor's attentions."

I watched him - King, I think, I heard their leader call him - and pondered quietly if his stately name was but a masque to disguise his kind, youthful heart.

"Please, sir, state whatever it may be your company seeks," I pleaded firmly. "We shall comply readily. Spare my sister."

The boy listened intently, but responded little.

His wide, pensive eyes stared alternately between me and Jane. I held my breath.

"You have a loved one who died of it?" I guessed.

His eyes locked with mine - and filled with fear.

"Is it family?" I asked cautiously, my arms still supporting a coughing Jane.

The boy stood still. His lips pressed tightly against each other, before opening once more.

I tried not to frown - with every bit of my resolve.

"My mother," he muttered, barely audibly above Jane's heavy breaths.

I nodded, patient.

We needed his trust - his goodness.

"Do you need something to help?" I prodded gently. The empty space between us and our captor provided safety, an invisible moat.

"The money will help," he spoke as if not to us. His eyes lingered by the window. "Arnold promised - a share."

I noted their leader's name and stored each detail away.

"King, you lad. Are yer done yet?" The arrival of his accomplice - each word as gruff as each stomp - broke whatever tentative peace I had established with the child. I watched the men nod towards each other, my heart sinking.

"Is Arnold done?" King asked, with little attempt to avoid our eavesdropping.

"Aye, he git the mister. We jes need the missus." The large man smirked. With his muscular arms crossed, his appearance was imposing indeed.

I struggled beneath the stare he sent my way.

"Ye Mrs. Bingley, yes?" He pointed his chin words me. The information came far too fast for my tired brain. I fought to stay awake, alert.

"There's a missus?" King asked for me. The child is a gift.

"The sister ses," the brawny man replied. His toothy grin was unsettling. "Ses 'er sister only Mrs. Bingley knows where the money's kep."

Thoughts of Caroline Bingley - my new eternal enemy - scorched me to the bone. How could she have even pondered throwing Jane into the lions' den this way?

"One of them is Mrs. Bingley?" King, bless his heart, was discovering the situation a few steps behind me.

My mind spun, every ability to analyze worked to its death. I breathed heavily, and I hugged Jane - before I let her go.

"Which - "

" _I_ am Mrs. Bingley." I winced when Jane collapsed on the floor behind me. I stood tall, casting every appearance of confidence I could muster. "I can lead you to the money."

* * *

I had always wondered, as a child, what grand adventure meant. I had pictured myself often - in flights of fancy - to be a warrior princess of a faraway land or, perchance, to be a woman who could morph into a dragon at will.

I had imagined, time and again, that my valorous actions - rather than the curse of my sex - would be the cause of salvation for my family's plight. I had longed for danger and thrill, passion and heroism.

Tonight, I was being called to be a hero at a most unlikely time and place.

I wondered, heart-in-throat, if I would rise to the task.

"She is here," the boy - our first captor - presented me almost formally to his colleague. I nearly laughed at the irony of standing before the sitting room's door as fearfully as I did earlier tonight.  _That_  fear had been rooted in my disapproval of the shallow and ridiculous;  _this_  fear was of an entirely different nature - its consequences reaching far and wide.

"Mrs. Bingley." The objectionable sentinel smirked. His brown locks bounced in the candlelight. The man was vain, no doubt. His hand flew close to my face - bouncing a stray lock. I shuddered. "Now ain't she a scrawny lil' thing."

My compulsion to connect my fist to his face was overcome only by the sheer force with which I exhaled. My smile, affected, perched precipitously on my face.

"You need the money?"

I had no idea, of course, of what I spoke.

"All business with yer, ain't it?" The man leaned to one side. His pose would have proved suave beyond this context. "All eight thousand, huh?"

I held my chin high. Whether or not the Bingleys had such gross amounts in notes for easy transfer - I could only guess.

Where  _did_ folks of great wealth hold their assets? Were desk drawers secure enough - or, perhaps, the locked cases within them?

"Did he talk?" The boy -  _King_ , right, oxymoron that his name was - said behind me. His loose grip continued to guide my upper arm.

"The 'usband? No hope there." The relaxed grin turned dark on his accomplice's face. "Mute as a sleepin' cow."

My mind took time to decipher his words.

Did they hostage yet  _another_  in this room?

"Look, Arnold," the man behind me spoke hurriedly, "perhaps the extent of our conquest is unnecessary? If Mrs. Bingley agrees - "

"Blast yur mind, son." The leader straightened, voice gruff. "George ain't lookin' for the faint of 'eart."

"I am not faint."

"Not in 'ere." The man I now knew to be called Arnold tapped the end of his pistol against King's head. I held my breath. "Yur 'eart's still yung."

I prayed with every nerve I possessed that young King's heart could outweigh his masters'.

"Let us get the money," the young man reminded.

Arnold, to his credit, merely nodded.

My mind spun so quickly that the world nearly turned dark. The soft creaking of the door - uncharacteristically civil - led to the gradual reveal of a darkened sitting room. I heard muffled moans and quickly knew I was to be thrown into the company of the man whose wife I now presumed to be. I steeled myself for the moment - praying that Mr. Bingley's great frankness and kindness would not inadvertently lead to my swift exposure and condemnation.

"Walk," Arnold barked.

I complied.

The rustling of my skirt as I inched into the darkness was soon replaced by Arnold's harsh, booted footsteps. I heard a match, then saw a flame.

Candle lit, the leader of the vagabonds turned back towards me. Mr. Bingley's foot hit the edge of my skirt as he attempted to kick his aggressors. I grasped desperately for viable reasons to offer these villains - to misdirect them however briefly towards plausible sources of wealth.

"Hmph!" The man on the floor was clearly struggling against what bound him. I heard Arnold smirk.

"So, Mrs. Bingley." Tall and thin, Arnold could be imposing when he wished to be. His solitary lift of an eyebrow promised both mischief and terror. "Where's the load that'll save yer husband?"

It was to my thorough, overwhelming, incomparable surprise when the robber lifted his candle towards the man on the floor - and revealed the face of a very angry Mr. Darcy.


	2. Chapter 2

I struggled against the knots, each tightly wound around a strategic point of restraint. I kicked; I huffed; I growled with increasing frustration. Whatever impulsivity the thieves may have displayed in their time of attack were sorely absent in the way they bound their prisoners.

I had volunteered, thinking myself powerful enough to divert them quickly. It had taken little effort to convince them that my towering presence, rather than the actual master's petulant appearance, identified the true Mr. Bingley. The men had required but minimal suggestion to haul me promptly to the sitting room.

That they believed rare and valuable possessions by a man so newly moved in would have been concealed at a place so public spoke volumes of their inexperience.

The three men thought themselves in charge.

I knew myself to be the one playing them instead.

It was simply my current physical predicament preventing me from exerting said control.

The door slid open, and the sliver of light hovered by my feet. I renewed my rally against my shackles.

"Walk!" The taller man barked. I deciphered a silhouette moving forward behind him.

Had Bingley been foolish enough to reveal our duplicity? Was - God forbid - Miss Bingley insisting to be thrown into captivity with me?

A loud groan escaped me when I forced myself forward - hovering farther away from the wall and its uneven surface.

The sound of rustling skirts made no secret of my fellow captive's gender. I was to be imprisoned with one of the ladies - each sillier and weaker than the last.

I struggled still, beads of sweat condensing on my brow.

"So, Mrs. Bingley." The robber's tone was teasing. I longed to throttle him immediately - for suggesting that I might have married one of these harpies, and then for attacking us. His subsequent words came with little surprise. "Where's the load that'll save yer husband?"

I flinched when the candlelight drifted closer. I heard her gasp, clearly not having anticipated my identity.

It was natural, of course, for either sister to have believed themselves walking into a room that Bingley occupied. They would not have expected to see me, to join me.

I looked up, frowning sternly, towards my captor. It was not until the lady gasped  _again_  that I looked closer - and gaped at the image of  _her_.

* * *

"Like 'em hangin' over yer?" The leader laughed, lugging Miss Elizabeth along by the elbow. I nearly sprung off the ground, every knot shed in anger. Her face appeared pensive yet serene. Shock was an emotion she handled much better than I. "A free reunion, sir. All yers."

The man was strong despite his slim frame - as evidenced by the way he shoved the lady forward. She landed with a groan, straight across my lap. The relief of having broken her fall mingled with the unwelcome thrill of feeling her curves draped upon my legs.

"Madame," I mumbled politely, struggling to aid her to recover her balance.

She needed little aiding and righted herself soon enough.

Her hair was abused, its stray locks dangling about her face. She breathed heavily as she rested her head against the wall beside me. Her hands remained by her side, impassive. I had little time to ponder what sentiments I displayed.

"Not happy seein' 'er?" Our captor strode closer, hands on his hips.

I looked up tentatively.

I received a kick to the thigh in response.

My scowl was no secret.

"You promised not to harm the ladies," I spat. "No honor among thieves, sir?"

His sneer offered little benevolence. "She volunteered."

My ready rage for any slur he had been about to deliver turned instead to astonishment.

"She - " My head whipped around to face my surprise companion. Her lower lip rolled under the pressure of her front teeth. Her eyes stayed firm, resolute despite the slight quiver of fear.

If I had ever doubted how remarkable of a woman she was, I was wise enough now to never doubt again.

"You  _asked_ to come?" My incredulousness would not subside.

She frowned and scoffed and sighed all at once. "So did you - Mr. Bingley."

Her statement struck me forcefully, laying weight to our similarities. I knew not to smile or frown.

"All the baby-makin' can wait, sir." The sneer and derision carried heavily in our captor's voice. "Where's the money?"

Whatever wordless communication I shared with my fellow prisoner had to be shelved in favor of our more pressing circumstances.

I gritted my teeth. "We owe you nothing."

The knife he brandished in his hand reflected the candlelight upon his greedy eyes. "Yer lives matter, sir."

I moved forward only to feel Miss Elizabeth's restraining hand upon my arm. I turned towards her. She nodded softly even as she frowned. I attempted, with little avail, to decipher her thoughts.

"We have money - but not much," she insisted, eyes still on mine. "My  _husband_  can inform you as to the location."

The cruel laughter our attackers sported was drowned out entirely by the way my heart raged at being called her husband, however falsely.

"Mr. Bingley - "

"The front drawer of the desk by the window," I ordered, removing my eyes from her bewitching ones and moving them towards the ground. "You will find all."

The man marched over immediately, his evil laughter soon following his discovery of the bank notes I had seen Bingley shove inside the drawer this morning. The papers filled his hands and wrought a smile - though neither act lasted as long as I wished it to.

"Where is the rest?" Our captor growled once more, the limited notes discarded upon the desk's surface. He marched towards us, angry. "You could not purchase a house with so little. Reveal to us the rest!"

"It is a lease, not a purchase." I refused to humor him.

"You brought more, I am certain."

"I did not."

"You most  _certainly_ have!" The mischievous tones had fallen away to reveal true ire. His face glowed darkly, harshly. "I  _demand_  your cooperation this very instant."

"There is little to - "

"Bo!" The leader cried.

I did not know what he shouted of - until I heard Elizabeth's shriek beside me.

"Let me go!"

I turned quickly to witness her struggling against the strongman's arm across her neck. Her limbs flailed. Her face began to lose its color.

"Miss Elizabeth!" I struggled against the last of my bondage.

"Miss Elizabeth?" The leader frowned.

I stopped still, realization late.

I nearly choked on my unruly tongue.

* * *

"Miss Elizabeth, eh?"

I flinched when his grip tightened around my neck. Any warmth of hope I had felt before entering this room were replaced entirely by harsh, cold dread. I could not blame Mr. Darcy, though I still felt the urge to do so.

"Not a missus 'ere?" Arnold leaned so close I smelled his breath. Three baths would prove insufficient to cleanse me from this ordeal. I held my breath as his smirk grew. "I  _knew_  there was no Mrs. Bingley."

"But I am!" I protested quickly. Bo's locked grip made breathing, much more talking, a challenging task. Miss Bingley's ruse had to be maintained at all costs - lest harm come to an already suffering Jane. "I - we - just - "

I turned desperately to my fellow captive. Mr. Darcy's frown spoke of more fear than anger.

My heart cursed him, cursed me, cursed our captors and the universe.

"No 'scuses." Arnold smirked again. I felt Bo's bones crushing my skin.

The panic in my blood coursed fearfully in my veins. My heartbeat raced, flew.

"I may not be Mrs. Bingley in name  _yet_." I screamed.

Arnold raised a brow. Bo releneted slightly.

Despite all good sense having fled me completely, I churned on. I compelled my voice to remain even - succeeding only partially in my endeavor. "I - we - we have every intent to marry - soon."

Arnold's unhinged laughter gave no comfort.

"Race to the altar, is it?" He leered at me, eyes wandering until they rested upon my flat abdomen. "Unlucky timing, perhaps? Dressed almost like a gentlewoman too. Ain't it quaint now? Give ol' Arnold a taste of them charms tonight and I just might - "

"No!" Mr. Darcy cried before I managed to elicit a response. My eyes, and the leader's, turned quickly to watch him. His piercing eyes seemed to flame in the candlelight. His voice, when it emerged, resounded low and firm. "I shall not have you - proposition my  _wife_  in this way, you miscreant."

Arnold grinned. I inhaled sharply. Mr. Darcy stared. Bo held me still.

"Wife now, is it?" Arnold pulled me out of Bo's grasp, fingernails digging into my skin. His sneer - nearly charming earlier - was solely vicious now. There was little room for relief. "Bit o' volatile love now, I see. Missus or lover then?"

Mr. Darcy did not hesitate. "Harm my wife, and you shall never see your family before your neighbors bury them."

I had no time to be impressed before Arnold shoved me forward - straight into Mr. Darcy's lap. He propped his legs instantly, deftly catching me between his knees and torso. I blushed.

"Where's the money?" Arnold did not wait.

"Allow me time to recall which key leads to the right drawer." Above me, Mr. Darcy carried on. I struggled to right myself. "I shall tell you in the morning."

"A whole night with your wife? I 'ave no such charity, sir."

"You show none, I assure you."

"Lover then, huh? I weren't far off when I - "

"There is no inappropriate relationship between - "

I stopped his words with my lips against his. My hands, freed from the floor, rested firmly on his shoulders. Mr. Darcy reciprocated slightly, fortunately not turning away.

I pulled back slowly, eyes level with his. Receiving such attentions from me could not have been welcome.

"Leave me be with my husband," I spoke without turning. "Perhaps a night's rest with my attentions would restore his muddled mind."

I heard Arnold's scoff without seeing it.

I heard also the relieving sounds of retreating, angry footsteps and a well-slammed door.

* * *

My heartbeat, blazing its trail through years and lifetimes of hollowness, refused to still. It was a kiss and nothing more. It was a brush - a singular moment of necessary touch, inconsequential yet true. She acted quickly, wisely. It was my bumbling actions that she sought to reverse.

It was almost criminal that I enjoyed her solution so thoroughly.

"Miss Elizabeth." My voice quaked with her face still so near. The sole candle still aflame lent the room unusually strong light. Was there sorcery in the air, in this room? Was there cause for -

"I apologize," she said softly, before repositioning herself to the floor beside me. I mourned the loss of her presence on my lap. My desires were ungentlemanly, I had to admit, but I held every intent to make right our - "I should not have acted so."

Her spoken words interfered with my unspoken ones.

"You made no mistake. It was necessary," I replied. Unladylike though her stratagem might have been, it had succeeded - and we had been left alone at last for the remainder of the evening.

I chose not to dwell upon the promise such an isolated evening brought.

"Mr. Darcy - "

"I shall marry you, of course." The words flowed freely from my tongue. My heart, so recently calmed, began to soar once more. The freedom duty brought was unlike any other. Duty and honor had dictated my former feelings inopportune. Duty and honor  _now_  claimed otherwise. Relief, nay,  _happiness_  coursed itself through my veins. My lips curled themselves into a -

"No, sir, I do not ask it." Her reply did not leave an impression until I lent it thought.

My eyes widened. Did she truly -

"None can hold you to make amends for faults not of your own making."

"But, Miss Elizabeth, your reputation - "

"Shall survive. Neither of us need tell. No polite society would merit the words of robbers and thieves."

"It was a kiss, madame - and a night we are posed to share disguised as man and wife."

"Surely, sir, you know there is vast difference between man and wife in  _name_  and man and wife in  _deed_."

"I had not meant, of course - " Her frankness crippled me, confused me. I blinked, mind tumultuous. Did she mean to  _decline_  what was wholly her right to claim?

Her humility enchanted me.

I sighed.

"Miss Elizabeth," I spoke slowly, lowly. The dancing candle flame seemed to have lost much of its former brilliance. I tilted my head until its back pressed against the wall. "Your modesty is everything admirable, but it need not hinder your happiness."

The sound beside me seemed to teeter between a laugh and a scoff.

I felt her palm tap my arm.

"Sleep, Mr. Darcy. Your brain is addled with excitement."

"It is not - "

"Hush. We shall talk in the morning. Let us thwart these aggressors before we determine the course of lives we may yet be able to preserve."

The serenity in her tone, despite its contents, spoke of tenderness and grace. An image of her as a young mother, smiling and flitting all about in Pemberley, soothed my mind.

I smiled.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Bingley."

"Goodnight, sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you all for the lovely response to this new story! I hope this second chapter did not disappoint. I struggle with writing first-person, so I don't know if I did any inadvertent mistakes. Please let me know if you find any. As many of you know, I work without a beta. Take care!


	3. Chapter 3

My arms felt sore when I roused - their circumferences pinned towards gravity by a heavy log. I wriggled and shifted at an attempt to free myself, but said log remained resolutely where it laid. The warmth of the earth radiated through my body, a ward against the chilly morning air. The grass grazing my ankles was smooth, nearly as smooth as fabric made for -

I sat up, shocked, nearly hurting my head against the log's low beam, and extricated myself quickly from my confines. My chest heaved against my neckline, its position pulled dangerously low upon my bosom. One quick survey of my predicament indicated, at least, no ill intention from my gentleman companion. His eyes remained closed, his own chest rising and falling at an erratic pace. His sleep was not secure, nor light enough to remove quickly. His right arm, now flung upon the wooden floorboards, ended with an open palm by my knees. Stray loops around his forearm hinted at knots long untied.

It was strange, even funny, that our mindless limbs had accomplished something our lucid minds had not attend to but one night before.

"Hm - Elizabeth." My name mingled with his groans as he stirred slightly, before resettling into wary sleep.

The simple utterance was enough to cause me unrest.

His marriage proposal, so simply stated, reemerged in my memory. Had he truly asked for my hand so nonchalantly? Had the resignation in his tone not been an insult itself? Had I truly acted so brazenly - kissing a man I to whom I had no relation and whose acquaintance I barely possessed?

I sighed, chest tight, cautious not to awake the source of snores I heard drifting sparsely through the door. The whirlwind of last night's activities - from heroic self-enlistment to pride to surprise to a desperate move for our captors' confidence - appeared vastly foolish in the light of day.

Mr. Darcy, gruff and barely conscious, shifted again.

I tried hard to maintain a quiet sigh.

A few quick words had sedated him upon his untimely proposal. His tiredness, I was certain, aided his succumbing.

Would he insist upon similar resolutions today?

My breath shortened at pace with my eyes watering. Marriage to Mr. Darcy was not disastrous. Mama herself would insist on the contrary.

Marriage by  _compromise_  - rooted in an act without passion, no less - refused to strike me as attractive in whatsoever way.

There was no honor in trapping the hand of a man who disdained me, whatever his consequence.

"Elizabeth," my fellow victim mumbled again, squinting his eyes for one brief moment before light sleep reassumed control.

My heart beat in uneven spurts as I pondered what I disliked but may be unable to avoid. The touch of his lips on mine lingered despite the hours in between. Had I attempted to pay a price I could not afford?

The handsome man woke slowly beside me. I lamented that his lack of knowledge of our sleeping poses could not extend to his ignorance of our fleeting kiss the night before. He was a fine man, in many ways. I hoped, rather recklessly, that his memory could be one part of him that was  _not_  as fine as all other parts he possessed.

I scoffed, bitterly.

Had my fleeting moment of bravado resulted in little more than a delay towards the inevitable? Would our farce - however strangely concocted - be ultimately seen through and destroyed through other means of punishment I had yet to imagine? The possibilities mesmerized and terrorized in equal measure.

Mr. Darcy stirred in time to the sound of movement through the door.

I knew then that I must think.

I  _had_  to think - quickly.

* * *

The gradually-increasing sounds did not bode well as I opened my eyes. The raw ache of sleeping on the floor - a sensation I hadn't experienced since my Cambridge days - permeated every muscle, harsh and unfortunate. I groaned loudly, forgetting for one moment my female company.

"Mr. Darcy," she called gently.

I glanced at her then, noting quickly that I must have imagined the bodily warmth I had sensed in the last two hours of my restful slumber. She was perched as far as far could be, not a fraction of an inch of our figures touching.

The realization was, again, unfortunate.

"Mr. Darcy," she repeated, most likely from my lack of response.

I minimized my grunts to the best of my abilities as I righted myself upon the floor. My free hands proved to be most helpful despite the raw lashes on my wrists.

"We cannot wait, sir." Her voice quickened this time. I found myself unhappily reminded of the noises that had roused me in the first place. "Bo stirs, and Arnold approaches."

I inclined my ear slightly, in thought then in agreement.

"We must have a plan," I croaked, voice hoarse from the morning. I prayed silently - and ardently - that she neglect any other parts of my body performing their morning rounds.

"I have one," she stated, surprising me again.

Was she going such great lengths to impress me?

The fact that I had not woken to her naked form upon me - however disappointing the lack of that fact may be - proved her different from the many simpering ladies of London. I could not presume her forward, though I could presume her clever.

"Did you form it this morning?" I asked.

She nodded firmly. "Only now."

I nodded, mind half awake. Only a woman as remarkable as she would plot her own freedom, rather than rely upon a man's knowledge.

My heart, in danger the day before, now throbbed with gleeful hope at the prospect of the future.

"What say you?" I stretched as I spoke. My spine cracked gratuitously. The sitting room stuffiness that had always beleaguered my speaking skills were absent today in the clarity of our morning solitude.

"We must distract them. We cannot overcome all three men at once."

"I agree." I nodded. My loosened limbs began to gain their strength once more. "We must proceed to eliminate their threat whilst the others are asleep."

"Or by separating them," she said.

I lent the matter thought.

"How shall we separate them without separating ourselves?"

She seemed to look away slightly before meeting my eye again. She sighed before speaking, "We need not stay together to overcome them. When Arnold appears this morning, I can suggest the false premise of offering him - favors. He would gladly - "

"No!" I thundered. She looked up sharply, eyes wide. My brow and heart clenched. "I shall not allow it."

"Sir, it is not your place to allow or disallow - "

"No harm shall come to you."

"You cannot be certain, sir. Even in this room - "

"I cannot afford, Elizabeth, to see you harmed," I pleaded. She paused slightly, clearly unsure. I begged with my eyes what my words could not say. My breath cut itself short in my lungs. My parched lips made speaking difficult. "I cannot allow any person dear to me to risk themselves on my behalf."

She lowered her eyes then, granting me only a view of her crown, for ten arduous seconds.

"You need not profess such feelings, sir," she muttered, looking slightly up.

"We shall marry before autumn sets in. I see every right for me to profess feelings - "

"That is  _hardly_ necessary, Mr. Darcy. I do not believe I have agreed to - "

"Your future protector and guide - "

"My  _present_  fate is in my hands. I do not believe I - "

"You are foolish to assume - "

"Highest forms of affection. I cannot - "

"It is not  _duty_  that spurs me! I am wholly sincere in my - "

The coarse laughter crossing the room caused both our efforts at argument to cease. Slowly, we each turned towards Arnold's piercing eyes. His right hand fingered his pistol, his left hand his knife.

His smirk was two parts mischief, eight parts evil. "Lovers quarrel, eh?"

* * *

The air tensed around us, every breath measured. My heart, rushing mere moments ago from Mr. Darcy's strange declarations, battled on in genuine fear. Had our disagreements circumvented our only opportunity to form a viable plan of escape? Had our pettiness stood in the way of our emancipation?

"Yer fightin' ain't helpin' yer," Arnold scoffed, leering and sneering. The knife he tossed in his left hand shimmered precariously. "George wants money, not tears."

"George?" I reacted before Mr. Darcy could. "You still have a master?"

The comment did not sit well with our captor, and his scowl deepened.

"I'm yer master now, ma'am. It ain't good to argue." His eyes trained themselves firmly on me. It was a struggle to avoid flinching. "Ask yer 'usband where the money is."

"There is no money," Mr. Darcy - for unfathomable reasons - continued to insist. I noticed briefly that he hid his wrists behind his back, feigning bondage. "We did not bring much for our journey."

"Liar!" Arnold cried - and sent his knife to the floor. It pierced the floorboards, hilt standing stiff and dangerous, two feet from my knees. I shivered. "Don't want the next one hittin' yer wife, sir."

Huffs of clear anger escaped Mr. Darcy. I reconsidered the sanity of his censure.

"Mrs. Bingley got a sister," Arnold began again. My eyes widened. "She'll talk, maybe, if yer wife won't."

"No!" I objected with little thought. My eyes flew instantly to our menacing overlord. "Do not touch her!"

"Yer ain't stoppin' me, ma'am." His sneer widened.

"Please - take me - I'll - I'll show you where the money is." My bluffs died in the air around me. I wondered how long the deception could last.

"No, take me."

I whipped around in surprise. Mr. Darcy appeared unfazed by his own offer.

He smiled slightly, almost bitterly. "I know where the safe is."

In three quick strides, Arnold crossed the room and raised Mr. Darcy's face by the collar. I cried aloud, sharply.

"No games, misser." Arnold's weaselly face threatened Mr. Darcy's regal one. "George an' I want 'em ten thousand pounds."

"I cannot promise ten thousand - "

"No games!"

Arnold's shout was enough to silence the room, the house. I watched with bated breath.

"I makin' myself clear,  _Mr. Bingley_ ," the robber spoke slowly, menacing and eerie. "Yer lie one more bit about yer money and I'm takin' yer wife to ma bedroom. There, I'll make myself - "

"You shall not!" I protested, drawing his beady eyes back to me. I swallowed harshly. "You shall not threaten my husband."

"An' yer sister then, ma'am?"

"I - "

"Arnold!" Quick footsteps approached. My first captor last night - young and pale - stepped into the sitting room panting. He stopped at the sight of Mr. Darcy nearly-choked.

The young man's lip quivered. "Arnold, I - I can't ward them off."

Arnold's eyes narrowed. The corner of my eyes caught at movement in Mr. Darcy's arms. I knew the blow would be inevitable. I knew -

"Won't go away?" Arnold dropped his victim all of a sudden. Mr. Darcy's free hands broke his own fall. I inched closer to him, wishing him unharmed. "Them callers that ersispent?"

"Yes, persistent, sir - " The boy - King, I remember - echoed.

"Tell 'em the masters gone."

"They hear movement and won't go away, sir."

My hands had just reached Mr. Darcy, just began to support him, when Arnold snapped. Palpable annoyance accompanied his every word. "Folks gettin' in the way of me an' money ain't gonna find it funny."

* * *

"Who're they?" Our chief captor demanded from his crew.

I struggled to keep calm. Between Arnold's weapons and Miss Elizabeth's proximity, the task proved particularly difficult.

"Lady Lucas and her daughter Miss Lucas, their cards said," the younger boy mumbled. I watched Arnold's face twitch. I nearly missed Elizabeth's reaction to the names - and was informed of it only by the slightly tighter grip upon my arm.

"Who they're lookin' for?"

"Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst."

"Not  _Mrs._  Bingley?"

Once again, in the mere span of three sentences, our flimsy charade placed our very lives at risk.

"Our dear sisters," Elizabeth, ever smart, remarked quickly. "They are - hugely popular with our neighbors."

I nodded vaguely, anxious to agree with whatever she suggested. Arnold seemed marginally appeased.

"They mention 'em?" The knife point hovered generally towards us. The sun rays on its blade were not kind. "I ain't lettin' 'em go so easy."

"They might be pacified by meeting any member of the family, Arnold." The boy's fair skin did not come with a pale mind. "We can ask Bo to collect anyone upsta - "

"I can write to them!" Elizabeth  _cried_ , deserting me to barrel forward until she knelt at Arnold's feet. The sight discomfited me. "A simple note from the mistress should cease their - persistence."

Three short seconds were sufficient to remind me of  _who_  waited one floor above us. My frown returned.

"Arnold - please - do not cause a - fuss," Elizabeth pleaded on. I swallowed hoarsely. "One note from me claiming our inconvenience shall silent them shortly."

The leader's eyes squinted, thoughts processing clearly on his face. I inhaled, exhaled, and cleared my throat loudly.

All six eyes turned dutifully towards me.

"Mrs. Bingley is right," I agreed. The false title lent me calm that the words 'my wife' would not have. "The neighbors are reasonable. We shall not be bothered if she assures them of our being indisposed."

The squinted glare continued.

"A note to unexpected visitors lowers your risk of exposure," I continued as well. It was uncommon for me to speak while seated on the floor. I refused the distraction. "They need not  _see_  us if they receive our regards otherwise."

Slowly - far too slowly - Arnold began to nod.

I waited patiently, engaging my much-practiced self-control. The younger man looked hopefully towards Arnold, seemingly advising him to accede. It was a relief to us all, I believed, when it was clear that Arnold did.

"Make it short," he barked. His hand began to toss his knife again.

"Of course," Elizabeth replied.

I was glad to find her retreating back to my side.

"The stationery can be found on the leftmost drawer." I gestured towards the desk whose other drawers they had raided hours before. Arnold frowned, but his assistant retrieved it instantly.

To my side, I found a breathtaking Elizabeth - with a glint of gratefulness in her bottomless eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It this too intense? I hold my breath when I write this. I don't know if you hold your breath reading it too. This story is drafted to be around 10 chapters. I can't keep up this intensity for much longer than that! Thank you so, so much to everyone who has poured their support into this story. Your encouragement means so much to me!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no direct Darcy/Elizabeth interaction in this chapter. For those like myself who long for those scenes in fanfiction, please prepare yourself to wait just a bit longer. We have some behind-the-scenes stuff to set-up here :) Thank you for reading!

 

"Now, whatever could they mean? Mrs. Bingley? Since when has there been a Mrs. Bingley? Has Mrs. Bennet been mistaken all along? Fie, I wonder how she shall take this!"

I watched my mother pace, exclaim, and collapse in rapid succession. I may not have always had Elizabeth's wit or charm, but I dared to hope I equalled my best friend in perception, at the very least.

My mother was aghast at our rejection from Netherfield's door this morning, declaring the Bingleys quite the rudest in all of England. But, now, it was the note I held in my hand that confounded her.

"And pray, tell, why would she address  _you_  over  _me_?" She continued to lament, "Should not a mother be granted precedence over her child? Your plainness does no credit, certainly - but must they be so rude as to use  _you_  a tool against  _me_?"

Years of patience stayed my tongue. I diverted my eyes to the note once more.

_Dear Miss Lucas,_

_Forgive our neglect. My husband and I are rather too preoccupied for company. Princess Peridot herself would envy my luck. My home now is hardly fit for company with such a grand degree of her condition._

_Your mother shall respond most slowly, I believe, for she always does._

_Most affectionately,  
_ _E. Bingley._

The handwriting was Elizabeth's - there was no doubt at all of the fact. I only wondered why she addressed herself thus.

"Mr. Bingley, five thousand pounds a year - taken, wholly taken! My hopes for Maria thoroughly ruined - oh bless my heart." My mother's hysterics nearly rivaled Mrs. Bennet's. I read the note again.

Was Elizabeth performing a role - pretending to be a person who did not exist? Was she portraying a part to express distress?

My mind wandered at her mention of Princess Peridot.

There was no such thing as Princess Peridot, of course - nowhere but in our joint imagination. Our childhood adventures had princesses aplenty, with only John to serve as the footman and the dragon and the prince all at once. Princess Emerald was Jane, ever kind and gracious. Princess Amethyst was I, loyal and true. Princess Peridot was - Lizzy. She never did like being rescued by John, though Jane had always been willing. Lizzy's Princess Peridot, often with my assistance, often slew the dragon  _herself_. While never quick-witted enough to ever escape capture, she'd always found a means to thwart John's childish iterations of imprisonment.

My brow furrowed, and I read it once again.

"Do you think she means to shun us  _on purpose,_ Charlotte? Could she be so evil as to make an example of our poor, neighborly, unassuming selves?" Mother refused to let the matter rest.

I looked at her as if to question her sanity.

She did not seem to notice at all.

"Princess Peridot indeed! Was she a former lover of Mr. Bingley? Did Mrs. Bingley  _need_  to be so cruel?"

I ignored her and wondered on.

My mind resumed its recollection of Netherfield's many windows - each one shut. My thoughts lent themselves to the pale, shivering servant who'd delivered our note - and the snarling, muscular man behind him.

Was Netherfield John's new unlikely dungeon?

"Have you heard of Princess Peridot, Charlotte? I daresay you have. Was she pretty and rich? Why, of course, as a princess - "

"Princess Peridot is in danger, Mother," I interrupted. She watched me, eyes wide.

Full understanding dawned on me even as I spoke.

"There is no Princess Peridot - there are only Jane and Elizabeth," I continued, "and I have every reason to believe they are in grave danger."

* * *

The darkness of the room nearly emptied my lungs of their contents entirely. I had eaten but two bites of bread since the men had taken Darcy. Now, I must remain upright - lest they dismiss my plea to see her at all.

"Is my sister well?" I asked my young captor, knowing fully the physical descriptions I had rendered described another woman.

"She is weak," the boy mumbled back towards me. He frowned as if in guilt. My eyes began their shift towards a more nightly sort of vision. I searched the unoccupied chairs in the center of the room. I searched the rugs. I searched the window. I searched the old bed I had first seen the day we arrived here and found -

"Jane!" I ran forward, thankful that the boy had loosened my bonds. There was honor in a thief yet.

I supported her when she attempted to sit. Her face - ashen upon her arrival in Netherfield - looked nearly cadaverous now. My heart all but stopped.

"Jane, Jane," I begged earnestly. My hands moved to clear her face of her disheveled locks. "Jane - please, wake."

"I shall return. Please watch her - fever." The kindness of our captor's words surprised me, and I turned quickly.

"May we have water?" I pleaded - before his hands closed the door. His eyes met mine. I pleaded still.

"I shall bring a little," he acquiesced soon.

I nodded gratefully as he closed and locked the door.

"Jane." I turned again towards my guest and angel. I shifted my body until it served as a reclining means for her. Hang propriety and its heartless concern. "Jane."

She responded then, gasping softly between her parched lips. I frowned until I could not frown further.

"Jane, hold my hand." I intertwined our right fingers. The unusual warmth of her body did not bode well. How did a glad invitation for tea turn so morbid so quickly? I shed tears onto her shoulder. "Jane - please, do not die."

Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Our privacy would not long be granted.

"Jane, be well - please." I held her close. I knew, most hopelessly, that the return of our captor brought with it the dictates of society. I had pleaded for my sister and asked for Jane. I had no one to blame but myself that I would now be required to treat her as if we shared blood rather than hearts. "Jane, I am so sorry - so sorry for the attack."

More tears escaped me. Guilt threatened to swallow me whole.

I had seldom found cause for responsibility in life before yesterday. My sisters presided my choices for me. My father's money covered my life's every expense. My boundaries of freedom existed as I wished them to be - as limited as the responsibilities I desired.

But, while I could claim Caroline's invitation to be the source of Jane's current captivity, I had no delusion that the root cause was mine.

"Jane," I whispered, her neck on my chest. "Stay well - I shall save us yet."

* * *

"Mr. Bingley?" My lips cracked painfully with every word. It was foolish, very foolish, to assume the blurry figure lifting water to my mouth was anyone who did not reside at Longbourn. Where else would I be when I fell ill? "Is it you?"

"Jane," he called my name breathily. The voice was indeed his.

"Mr. Bingley?" I blinked my eyes and exerted great effort in propping myself to a seat. I noticed, rather vaguely, that he assisted me. Another coughing fit arrested me.

"Jane! Jane - please, drink." His left hand soothed my back while his right hand fed me water still. I gulped down the contents of the stained cup, grateful despite the indelicacy of it all.

"Where are we - sir?" I asked when the coughing stopped. Every word I spoke drew with it nearly all air from my body.

"We are at Netherfield." He did not sound proud.

I squinted through the ache in my head. He was hanging his head, frowning.

"Mr. Bingley - "

"Thank God you are awake, Jane," he replied with gusto.

I pondered wearily at how long I must have been sleeping to have stirred such concern. I remembered snippets of nightmares - monsters and robbers. In one dream, a knife had been pressed to my throat. Had the images, save the monsters, been gleaned from true events?

"Robbers," I croaked. Another full cup was pressed into my hands.

"Yes, they let me here. The young one was - understanding."

I listened carefully to his words as I imbibed the cool fluid again.

"They took Darcy soon after they arrived. He - he claimed to be me." Mr. Bingley's frown grew harsher.

I did not understand.

"Darcy, ever the leader, claimed to be the master of a house he did not own merely to save me from danger. I owe him my very life!" Mr. Bingley's words grew into laments. "I should have stated my identity. I should have saved us. Oh, Jane, what shall you think of me now?"

I blinked, eyes still heavy. I smiled. "You are brave to come here."

A sad smile crept onto his face, wiping away each worried line. He took my hands into his own. I felt warm yet chilled.

"I shall save us, Jane. I shall find a way to hail down authorities and ensure that these  _blackguards_  do not have their way."

I nodded, believing heartily in his success. "Use the window."

He looked at me, then at the olden panes, then at me once more. He nodded. "I shall need the sheets."

I nodded again, in full agreement. "I wanted to try - but could not."

"No! Of course - no, Jane, I cannot have you fulfill my penance for me."

"Do not blame yourself. They did not - "

"They asked for Mr. Bingley!" He cried, spare tears escaping him. I wiped both drops gently with my thumbs. "How could I be cowardly enough to let Darcy take my place?"

I felt tears myself.

"Like Elizabeth," I said softly.

"Your sister - yes." Mr. Bingley's eyes were sad. I cried for him. "I am no better than my own sister - leaving our guests to bear duties that truly ought to have been ours."

"No, sir," I comforted.

He looked up towards me. I held his face in my hands.

"Will you be well without the covers? I fear your fever worsening," he remarked gently.

I shifted as quickly as I could to prove my ability to remain rested without the dusty sheets. Mr. Bingley gathered them dutifully.

I noticed, belatedly, at our thoroughly unchaperoned and thoroughly unacceptable intimacy.

"You must go," I offered faintly. He met my eyes, unsure. I tried not to cry. "I shall tell no one."

He frowned at my promise. I had no strength to ponder what he  _did_ expect of me.

"I need no secrecy, Jane. I have but apologies to offer."

* * *

"Mr. Bing - "

"No." It strained my heart to stop her words - but I simply must. "Accept my apologies, Miss Bennet, for placing you and your sister in such danger."

"No apology - "

Her words ended abruptly as her body bent over in a violent rush of coughs. I rushed to assist.

"Jane, I cannot leave. Oh, what can I do!"

The tears in my throat reflected back to me through her eyes when her coughing ceased at last. I gripped her shoulders more tightly than I did before.

"Jane, please - let me marry you." The words came without effort. I had always known. I was merely more certain now.

"The robbers think we are family." Her beatific smile matched ill with her frail voice. "You do not need - "

"I  _want_  to, Jane - I want nothing more." My tears fell freely now. My guilt, simmered to a boil by two dozen long hours in lonely captivity, threatened to take me whole. "I know I do not deserve you. You have been in my care but for a day before thieves and robbers nearly destroy you. I am a fool to think I can tender the care you deserve for an entire life - "

"Sir." Breathiness in her voice did not alter its certainty.

"Please - call me Charles," I begged now. A future in my mind began to slip away - Jane Bennet's figure slowly drifting towards the unexplained darkness.

"We are not compromised."

"But I am in love."

Her eyes met mind with a remarkable strength. Her bare fingers grew colder on my arms.

I blinked rapidly - heaving and crying. "Jane Bennet, darling, I love you - your kindness and beauty are - "

"I admire you too - sir."

I paused at her response and its civility. That she could not promise herself in this state, with so short of an acquaintance - I knew full well.

It was the gnawing disappointment I felt in my soul that I disliked.

"I owe you a grand courtship - of gardens and roses and tea," I stated. Her grip on me grew looser by the moment. I knew the time to enact my escape drew near. "I shall make it up to you, Jane, if you can promise me - "

"Yes, I promise." Her weak smile was no less beautiful than her strongest ones. "If we all survive - I shall marry you."

With rapidly-growing gladness, I kissed her hands, pressing them closely to my face. The joy in my veins was entirely new. No Miss Glaston or Miss Turner or Miss Frederick had ever touched my heart with such bliss and serenity.

"Thank you." More tears slipped from my eyes. Her forgiveness and kindness knew no bounds. I wished to marry her - I  _had_  to marry her - for reasons far beyond propriety. "Thank you - "

"Go." Her hands pressed against my shoulders. "Save us."

I paused in my joy. She was right - entirely so.

"Stay warm," I insisted, reluctantly gathering the sheets.

She nodded gently, granting me images of a thousand other such nights together.

"If the robber returns, please assure him that I left only to relieve myself." I planned belatedly. She listened with the patience of an angel. "I shall be quick - as quick as I can."

The dullness in her eyes disappeared when she smiled. "I shall wait, Charles. Take good care."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone is useless in this story, after all! Thank you so, so much to you all for supporting this story and sharing what specific things are enjoyable or can be improved. I must admit that forming the idea for this story was so much more fun than actually writing it out. I just hope some of that intrigue translated successfully into the words I chose. Thank you again for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm sorry. I beg your pardon, Mi - Elizabeth, I - "

"Do not worry," I assured quietly. Mr. Darcy shifted again to his previous pose. The pressing of his arm against my body, however quick, had sent my heart into unseemly flurries. I only hoped he was not nearly as affected.

I turned to face him, wet rag in hand.

"Do your injuries hurt, sir?" I wiped each sore spot on his face again. Despite my every cry and protest, Arnold had persisted in his ill treatment of Mr. Darcy. Every punch, every grip from Bo's unforgiving strikes cut my heart as it did his flesh. Even now, my eyes refused to dry completely.

"Your care helps - very much." His drooping eyes smoldered still.

I sighed, heart tight. My eyes and hands flew to my lap.

While the note I had offered to write did indeed allay our captors' fears of discovery - it had not sufficed in quelling their thirst for riches. Again and again, their leader questioned Mr. Darcy. Again and again, Mr. Darcy denied having any more notes or gold at hand.

The result of the inquisition was clear.

My companion's stubbornness shall prove his demise yet.

"Elizabeth," he called gently. I lifted my eyes, wary and pained. His fingers brushed against then rested upon mine. "Are you well?"

How was a woman to answer that?

Tears escaped me rapidly, raining on his hands and mine. "Mr. Darcy! You - you have allowed yourself to be treated so poorly, to be harmed in every possible way - and yet you insist to care for  _me_? You baffle me, sir. Your concern is undeserved and wholly unwarranted. How am I to - "

"Hush, Elizabeth." His words rang of difficulty. I paused to listen. "You are safe - that is enough."

Floodgates of feelings - ravenous and confused - threatened to overflow within me. I huffed and sniffed. In the corner, the benefits of strong drink kept a burly Bo sedated. I doubted he heard a word we said. If I wasn't certain that far more alert accomplices lurked the hallways, I would carry my companion out the front door now.

"Elizabe - "

"No, do not - do not call me with such tenderness." I cleared my nose and spoke quickly. My hands turned to grip his - my palms to his palms. "I thought I had delayed him - that the note itself would lead to our deliverance. How was I to know I had but postponed your punishment? His torture of you, sir - I cannot bear it."

He smiled weakly. I wished breakfast had come. He needed it - if not I.

"You are brave - and wise." He smiled while he spoke, his voice a mere whisper above the screeching of his wounds. My eyes watered despite my every effort to withstand more tears. "Miss Lucas will save us."

"Yes," I agreed, shallow and coarse.

He nodded wordlessly, his eyes dropping close. I knew he needed rest.

It was too bad that I needed him.

I sniffed again, true fear overcoming me for the first time since I was first thrust into this room the night before. Without our compliance, Arnold's teasing had fast descended into violence.

Would our continuous defiance lead to further consequences - consequences which I dared not imagine coming to pass?

"Wa - water," Mr. Darcy mumbled, a moment hence. I responded quickly.

He gulped down the contents of the cup readily. I rejoiced that my own parched lips proved my ability to sacrifice for him - however minutely.

"Thank you." He smiled weakly again when we quenched his thirst at last.

"Whatever I can do, sir - I shall do willingly." I meant every word I uttered. There was no reason for me to mistrust him any longer. Any man professing such feelings and acting with such bravado could only be sincere.

"What was in the note?" He asked softly.

I looked, embarrassed, towards him. "I would rather not say, sir."

"A secret?"

"No - no, merely - silliness." I smiled a little, at last. "I - I referred to words from our child play, implying our troubles. I can only hope Charlotte understands."

"Cloaked references - yes, that is wise." He smiled at me - and I decided I had never met another man so handsome, wounded or not. "You are wonderful."

"No, no - I am not. I allowed you to be injured. I - " My self-incriminations resumed.

He stopped me with a warm, firm grip on my arm. "You are wonderful - and I refuse to argue."

My heart roared in approval. My mind fell fast against the former's onslaught.

"Mr. Darcy, you cannot mean - "

"Marry me, please - " His eyes begged as much as his words did. I realized that we had never concluded that matter at all.

"I cannot see why you would want me," I answered carefully. My fingers wrapped gently around his corresponding forearm. "I have caused you naught but harm, sir. I - "

"You are strong, kind, and brave," he interrupted. His chest rose and fell before he continued. "No one holds a candle to your character."

"I am - tolerable, I suppose," I said without thought. My eyes stung.

The touch of hand stiffened. I met his eyes.

His lips shook. His face was entirely pale. "You - that was you?"

It was my turn to wonder. "You did not know?"

"Bingley mentioned a sister - ah, yes, of course." He sighed, bitterness clear. "Irony has never been my friend."

It was not difficult at all, I found, in the short span of two heartbeats, to forgive him.

"Do not worry, sir," I assured softly. "I shall not hold - "

"You are beautiful," he said, free and direct. My traitorous heart lifted once more. "I was a fool for not noticing."

I licked my lips, suddenly noticing our intimate proximity.

I gulped.

"Thank you," I answered faintly.

"Then you do not object?" He said - happiness in his voice despite its airy quality.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the hall. In the corner, Bo began to stir.

I blinked quickly; I took one long, solitary breath.

"Yes, sir - of course. I - I do not object."

He smiled again before he fell asleep.

* * *

The sting in my cheek roused me most uncomfortably. I felt a rush of wind beside it - nearly colliding with the inevitable swelling. A man taunted. A woman barked back.

I blinked many times to clear my vision - only to discover the touch that blurred my mind all the same.

Elizabeth's arm was entwined with mine, her body pressed close towards me. I recalled the proposal I had dreamt. Would she accept in actuality?

"Yer time's running' out, dear." The malice was unmistakable.

I glanced and glared at the man hovering above us.

"Arnold," I growled. "Release us, now - and we shall not report you."

His hoarse laughter offered little promise of an amicable resolution. I flinched when his knife lowered until it hovered by my face. A sleeping Elizabeth leaned closer still.

"Can't afford another scar to yer pretty face, per'aps?" His sneer was unsettling. The long night had stolen away any manners he'd possessed. He was nearly cheerful yesterday; he was entirely sinister now.

"We don't have any more money," I insisted again - only to swallow forcefully when the knife's edge pressed against my cheek. "Let us be. You have enough."

"Enough for me ain't enough for George, 'nfortunely." Arnold pulled back, frowning. He tossed his knife repeatedly in his hand as he paced the room.

"George?" I croaked.

"None o' yer business,  _Mr. Bingley_." His eyes were fiery when he turned again.

I pondered tentatively if Charles had achieved some blunder to have unveiled our farce.

I liked to think he knew better.

Deception was abhorrent to me - but currently our only path to salvation.

"The neighbors will wonder," I began my most recent campaign to bring our captor to sense.

"Perhaps they already do," Elizabeth - now awake - added beside me.

I nodded, encouraged when the pacing stopped. "We can promise to attribute the damage to a domestic accident. You and your men may leave unscathed."

Arnold's eyes narrowed. He was thinking. I was hopeful.

"My husband is a man of his word," Elizabeth spoke beside me. My heart clenched at her casual reference to my false identity. The edge of her body pressed against my arm. I fought hard to remain unaffected. "We promise we shall not tell."

"But where is the  _money_?" Arnold thundered - marching towards us menacingly. I found comfort in Elizabeth's presence.

"There's no more money, sir." She was unfazed. "My husband has shown you where he keeps it - and you have collected it all."

"That is not all! George said there was more!"

"Whoever your accomplice or master may be - he is misinformed," she insisted.

Arnold glared at me. I experienced, with startling clarity, a pang of fear at the weapons he wielded.

"There's more." His voice was calm, threateningly so. His eyes leveled with mine. "You 'ave until tomorrow to share it - 'fore your wife pays yer price."

He stormed out the room, leaving us alone at last.

It took three gentle nudges from Elizabeth to direct my eyes to the bowl of porridge on the floor.

* * *

"Oh, wait!" I rushed to wipe his mouth with my sleeve. All sense of propriety had long gathered itself, departed for the coast, and drowned itself in the ocean. His hands were indisposed; his stomach growled. The least I could do was to assist him with whatever little food we were given.

"Thank you - Elizabeth." He smiled weakly after swallowing the last spoonful of porridge.

If he hadn't insisted that I ate as well, I would not have tasted any of the bowl's lukewarm content. The taste was bland, the texture horrendous. The only palatable thing had been the odd excitement of sharing one spoon with Mr. Darcy. At least, now, we had minimal strength.

"You gave me too much." He protested even after all the food was gone.

I smirked as I lowered the empty bowl on to the floor. There was comfort in controlling such a powerful man - however loosely.

"I do not starve yet," I assured before meeting his eyes again.

His face was rendered completely uneven by the swelling beneath his left eye. His lip sported remnants of dry blood.

He had never looked handsomer.

"You spoil me." He smiled despite a clear lack of strength and air.

I pressed my hand on his hand, taking care to avoid endangering any scratches. "You earned it."

"I earned nothing." His eyelids began to fall even as he spoke. "Providence gave you to me."

His words stirred an awakening. I'd rather not inspect what it entailed.

"Sleep, sir." I reached out to soothe his brow. Our circumstances had produced an odd sort of physical familiarity. It was almost as if the suddenness of our charade as husband and wife induced us to intentionally prove our act at every opportunity. I frankly did not now what society would say.

I comforted myself that society did not know - did not know of our unchaperoned state or any of our many touches at all.

The fact that his tenderness was only for me to see fueled further the awakening I fought hard to ignore.

"You must rest - too," he whispered, eyes half-closed. His fingers brushed against my palm. His face, angry this morning, was all innocence now.

"It is not yet night, sir," I reminded gently. "I can stay awake yet."

He laughed softly. My heart responded with shocking alacrity.

"I forget the days and nights here," he said, eyes hollow. "I worry."

"Do not worry, sir - " I clasp his hands more tightly and inch instinctively closer to his reclining form. "Charlotte shall deliver."

"Miss Lucas - yes." His smile wavered between sleepy and fazed. He rolled his head from side to side, until his eyes rested fully on me. "But she is not you."

My cheeks warmed of their own accord. I looked down - only to look up sharply when I felt fingertips on my face.

"Thank you - Elizabeth."

"I don't deserve - "

"You do - every single bit of it." His hand rested fully on my face now. My eyes began to mist.

I barely noticed that he had not specified what he believed I deserved.

"Mr. Darcy - "

He pressed his lips to mine.

I found I could not speak - nor pull away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for Darcy to bring up the marriage again so quickly - or to kiss her, for that matter. He's a stubborn one. I'm sorry that it's basically just them locked in a room (with poor Darcy getting a beating) for the whole chapter, but I hope the amount of D/E interaction made up for things!


	6. Chapter 6

My hands, raw and sore, still bore full evidence of my clumsy descent in the early hours today. The morning dew, still and serene before, dripped now in beads of universal perspiration. My heart thumped wildly as I ran, my feet barely acquainted with Netherfield's unfamiliar grounds.

I paused when the voices began, hand perched on a tree trunk as I panted. My morning escape had required the removal of all clothing save my shirtsleeves and breeches. Neither sufficed in warding off the morning chill.

"Are you  _certain_ , Miss Lucas?" The male voice that permeated the trees was full of disbelief.

I frowned, listening.

"Elizabeth's note left no room for doubt," the woman - most certainly Miss Lucas - insisted.

"The note has given no cause for alarm."

"It  _has_. Elizabeth was merely acting with wisdom. The reference was clear that - "

"Miss Lucas, the town has no time for female fancy!"

To hear the fairer sex so disparaged was to spur me through the last wooded barriers between me and company.

"I am  _certain_  - without a sliver of doubt that I - Mr. Bingley!"

All eyes - from each of the five people assembled - turned firmly upon me.

I placed my hands on my hips, panting still. "Hi - dear - neighbors."

My limited strength mustered only a weak smile. I remembered Miss Lucas from the assembly - and inferred quickly that her mother accompanied her, as did her sister, her neighbor, and his daughter.

"The robbers - have taken over." It pained me to admit my failure as a host, but my mission had always remained clear. "They hold captive my sisters, Mr. Hurst, Mr. Darcy, Miss Elizabeth - and Jane."

The raised eyebrow from Lady Lucas affirmed that my allusion had been clear.

If I was compelled to be the most alert in my entire life - it would prove helpful if the neighbors did just as much.

"Mr. Bingley, did you escape?"

My eyes took their time before resting on Miss Lucas' worried face.

I swallowed, hungry. "I lowered myself with sheets."

"From a high window?" Lady Lucas was unimpressed.

"Yes." I frowned. "There was no other way."

"And how are they?" Miss Lucas spoke again. Her voice was tense, frantic.

I looked slowly from her mother back to her.

My own voice was small, pained. "Upon my departure, all my guests were unharmed."

The company nodded solemnly. I found solace in their understanding.

"Shall we need to interfere?" The man who argued before now stepped closer.

I eyed him openly. "It would be best to harness the town's help. We do not know with whom the robbers conspire."

The man nodded solemnly.

"Mr. Philips," Miss Lucas asked before I could, "shall we not call Mr. Robinson and his men? I am certain our men shall prevail with adequate numbers."

I looked hopefully towards the hefty man.

Mr. Philips nodded and frowned all at once. "Are there many of them?"

"Three - I believe," I answered surely. "No signs of further accomplices have emerged."

He nodded back. "And if we damage the property, sir?"

"I shall take full responsibility. I guarantee full absolution for any harm inadvertently done to the estate."

Mr. Philips nodded. It relieved me to find all other members of the party doing so as well.

"Very well, neighbor." He grabbed my arm. "Let us act quickly."

* * *

I hadn't given the action much thought before I kissed her.

I could hardly be expected to think now that she kissed me back.

For a few, long heart-stopping moments, I relished the feeling of her body pressed against mine, her lips yielding to mine. Gone were the quick sparks of our first kiss - a kiss bestowed merely to fool our captors the previous evening. The kisses we shared now were gentle, intimate, and hopeful.

"Mr. Darcy," she called gently when we pulled apart at last. I regarded her with hooded eyes. The sunset radiance, peeking through the windows, crowned her with warmth and serenity.

"Please - call me Fitzwilliam." My voice shook as much as hers did. There was a shift in that moment - a page turned in the novel of our dreams.

Even my bruises could not holler louder than my fast-beating heart.

"Elizabeth - "

The door flung open just before I drew closer to her once more. I dragged myself back against the wall. The wallpaper did little to soothe the aching in my head.

"Liar!"

It was the burly one - all strength and ignorance. He dashed towards us the very moment he entered.

Then he dove for Elizabeth.

"No!" I cried - lunging forward incrementally. My limbs burnt with their injuries.

"Send 'em away, you say." The muscled man pulled Elizabeth taut against him. My heart, eyes, and body throbbed. Her body, so substantial against my own but minutes earlier, looked flimsy and pale. "Liar!"

Elizabeth whimpered. I begged.

"Yer note,  _madame,"_ the robber hissed on, "was a lie!"

I recalled my admiration upon the evidence of her wisdom. Not all regard for her mind, it seemed, was equal to mine.

"I said nothing!" Elizabeth cried, her hands grappling vainly against the arm around her neck.

"There's more of 'em! More at the door!" The burglar sneered against the side of her face. I recoiled for her. "Why're they here!"

"I don't know!" Elizabeth denied. I persisted in moving forward on my knees.

"You called 'em! Arnold's ses." There was a crack in his voice - a vulnerability. I waited until I was closer. "Yer liars - all liars."

I purposefully ignored the tears streaming down Elizabeth's face. It was too much, too keen.

"Arnold shouldnda waited." His every threat was accompanied by a tighter grip. I heard Elizabeth gasping for air.

"You are hurting her!" I cried. His blood-streaked eyes glare at me. I pulled back my shoulders, affecting a stance of neutrality.

Elizabeth coughed. Her cries were interspersed with the word 'Bo.'

Bo - yes, of course it is.

"Bo, listen." I attempted my negotiation slowly. Elizabeth's breath evened, thank goodness, though she remained in his grip. "I know your aims, and I am the only person in the universe able to provide what you desire. Allow me to speak - and I shall deliver."

His eyes bore hesitation.

I expressed every ounce of sincerity I could muster.

"Them jewels," he growled.

"Yes, the family jewels - all of them." My mind, unaccustomed to deceit, warred with itself regarding the necessity of it now. I knelt tall, straight against the floor. "Release her now."

Bo paused, in evident contemplation. I held my breath discreetly.

"All 'em jewels, now," he countered, brawny arm against Elizabeth's frail neck.

"Yes - everything," I forced the bluff with every inch of my being.

"She stays 'ere." Bo relaxed his grip. Elizabeth toppled forward until she hit the floor.

"She won't come with us - yes." I assisted her to a seat, eyes trained on Bo still.

The large man crossed his arms. "Where're they?"

"Upstairs." I mapped out Netherfield in my brain. I knew just the room to take him.

Bo narrowed his eyes. Elizabeth gripped my arm. It took every fiber of my being to remain stoically turned away.

"We git it an' go." Bo was making sure of his gamble.

I was certain I had no choice but to make mine.

"Yes, we go now," I assured. It comforted me that he held no apparent weapon.

Bo nodded slowly. His tattered clothes displayed scars and bald spots in parts of his body that could have been harmed only through the most violent of fights.

I made sure to swallow invisibly.

"We go now?" He demanded and asked all at once.

"Yes, now." I struggled to my feet - succeeding only after Bo assisted with a yank of his own. My soles, long asleep, strived hard to maintain my upright pose. "Thank you."

Bo nodded them, placated by my offer.

"Go. Now." He did not waste time before pulling me out the door.

My last look towards the interior of our recent prison was at Elizabeth - wordlessly pleading with her to leave while she could.

* * *

"No," I muttered when my face hit the hard floor.

"No," I cried when I saw him take Mr. Darcy.

"No!" I screamed on deaf ears, when the door had slammed shut already.

Tears flowed unchecked on my face. Every inch of my body ached - with fear, with anger, with pain. The skin on my neck stung. My eyes stung more.

"Mr. Darcy," I whimpered, hand clutched to my aching chest.

The blur of events ever since Bo's entrance slowly clarified themselves in my mind. His offense on my body, Mr. Darcy's pleas, the threats, then the promises - every recollection struck fear into my heart.

Had Mr. Darcy volunteered himself to walk straight into the lions' den? Were the mentioned jewels real - or a dangerous fabrication?

My mind raced as my limbs scrambled. I smoothed out my skirt quickly, only noticing for a moment how irretrievably disheveled my gown proved to be. I limped towards the coffee table and gulped down the cool water inside the lone pot. I searched my body and surroundings for any means of defense, any loose chair leg that could prove a worthy weapon.

When I found none, I raced for the door.

I had visited Netherfield enough times, under current residence or otherwise, to map out the fastest path to the front door with ease. I muttered prayers for deliverance, prayers to the God of Daniel and his friends. My feet, sore from inactivity, struggled to maintain even steps.

At last, ten heartbeats and two dozen steps later, I stood at the hallway that led directly to the door. I heard sounds emanate through the barrier. They were human sounds. They were cries and complaints.

Had the town mob come to do good just this once?

My eyes catalogued the path to elusive liberty. I knew from overheard conversation that the servants exits had all been barred and said servants dismissed. With such new employs, I hadn't expected further loyalty. There was one route left - and no soul to assist me.

"Bo!" Arnold, posed precipitously by the solitary passage, peeked occasionally through the glass. He glared towards the room I had just fled at regular intervals, each attempt with a stormier look than the last.

To escape was to face him - and I was far from ideally armed.

"Bo!" The leader called again. Shuffling echoes were all that the hallway supplied. I watched with bated breath as a debate played out clearly on Arnold's face. I direly wished that he would leave his post, but he concluded all on his own that he would remain where he was.

I nearly cursed under my breath.

A few more seconds of quiet observation yielded the fact that our lead captor passed his weight between his legs quite often. With every shift, he moved his hips in upward and downward motion, as if needing the chamberpot.

It took me one short moment to realize he  _did_ in fact need just that.

The sound of more footsteps, grunts, and groans ricocheted down the length of the house. I shuddered, fearfully remembering every second of borrowed time I breathed had been bought at a price.

Was Mr. Darcy all right? Did Bo hurt him?

Mr. Darcy was strong - but our captor had proved stronger once.

My eyes watered at the possibility of another attack overcoming him again.

"Damn it!" Arnold's cry echoed loudly down the hall before he marched away towards the back of the house.

The doorway, framed in sunset hues, lay entirely unguarded.

I gathered my skirts and ran, slippers soft on the wooden floor. My heart pounded nearly as quickly as it did when Mr. Darcy kissed me. I shoved the memory aside, unwilling to be distracted.

Three steps until the door, I believed I heard Charlotte's voice.

Two steps until the door, I believed I heard the sound of steadily, flowing liquid.

One step until the door, I heard - indubitably - a sharp cry from the highest floor of the house. The voice was Mr. Darcy's.

The door handle lay foolishly untouched.

I turned and dashed for the nearest staircase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are almost getting them out of there! I had to cut an entire scene from this chapter because it somehow didn't flow properly. I apologize if the delay made it harder to wait for updates. Please let me know if you liked anything at all from these updates. Your comments and kudos and bookmarks are what make writers persevere on!


	7. Chapter 7

The staircase steps fell beneath my feet like cascading water. I could not run fast enough, climb fast enough.

Mr. Darcy was in dire danger in an attempt to save me. By heart or by conscience, I could not allow it.

"Mr. Bingley!" I cried when my sore feet landed upon the higher floor at last. My hands clutched the balustrade as I panted my fears away. I would save him as he had saved me. We would escape - together. "Mr. Bingley!"

My legs carried me, with miraculous strength, down the hall and past every room that held captives. Their moans through the doors did not deter me. Jane's whimper, when I passed our previous room, nearly stayed me.

But, still - I battled on.

"Mr. Darcy." The crack in my voice followed closely after the crack in my will. How could I pretend he was another when only he alone could have offered himself so gallantly for my deliverance? What sort of man but the very best kind would aid, with such great magnanimity, a woman who'd trapped him into marriage?

I disregarded my tears when more cries reached my ears. There would be time to cry, later. There would be time to mourn the despondency of our encounters. Now, at this very moment, my duty was to prevent having further reasons to mourn.

"Mr. Darcy," I whispered hoarsely as I ran towards the source of the sounds.

Darcy and his captor - all two hundred pounds of Bo - struggled in the very last room in the hallway. I threw the door open, unable to wait. The sight the greeted me corresponded fully with the noises I had heard.

"Elizabeth." The man who had asked for my hand, who had born each blow from Arnold, who had tricked his current aggressor into allowing me freedom - was pressed against Bo, knife against his neck. His voice was tight, as certainly as his breathing must be. "Eliza - ah!"

The knife drew blood, red slowly dripping on to Bo's hairy arm. My eyes overflowed.

"Where are 'em jewels!" Bo demanded, furious. Mr. Darcy choked again.

"Let him go!" I cried - loudly and desperately.

"Not until 'e - "

His words stopped when my teeth sank into his flesh.

"You sickening  _bitch_!" He hollered, tumbling back with a hand to his wound.

"Mr. Darcy." I dove to catch him. My lips and hands trembled as I pressed my handkerchief to his bleeding neck. "Mr. Darcy, are you - "

"Move." The master of Pemberley shoved me aside - and barreled straight into the abdomen of a charging Bo.

* * *

"No - please, stop!"

Elizabeth's shrieks persisted. I struggled to maintain focus.

"Bo! Stop!"

Her cry was warning enough for me to evade his latest punch. Carefully, despite the numbness in my legs, I twisted low until I grasped his waist as tightly as I could. In one motion, I shoved him back with all my strength.

The sound of his shoulder cracking on the floor was beyond satisfactory.

"Fitzwilliam." Elizabeth stood and rushed towards me. Her hand returned to the bleeding spot on my neck. I was lucky the knife had not been sharper. "Oh, Fitzwilliam."

I enjoyed her ministrations for the following moments. Our aggressor was overcome. The windows in this room had not been barred.

Suddenly, hope re-emerged.

"Elizabeth, come." I grasped her wrist gently, ready to barge with her through the glass panes - the vertical distance be damned.

We would face those consequences later.

"Well, well, well." The three small words, evil and arrogant, evoked fear I'd rather not admit to possessing. We both froze in our tracks.

"Arnold, wait." Slowly, I drew Elizabeth close and turned our bodies until we faced the lead attacker - and his leveled pistol.

I swallowed the blood in my mouth.

"Arnold - "

"Betrayal, Mr. Bingley?" He cocked his brown curls to one side. His hand, unfortunately, remained steady. "Or, should I say - Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire?"

My throat tightened. Elizabeth's grip around my chest did as well.

"I fear our stances are uneven." Every word drew pain through my ribs and blood from my gums. "May I have the pleasure of your acquaintance?"

Arnold's laugh sounded as if it were a bark. He shifted his fingers on the grip of his pistol, nearly setting off the trigger. My chest ached more. Elizabeth pulled tight beside me.

"I doubt ye woulda knowned me anyways." Arnold sneered - and stepped closer.

I pulled both of us further away, the back of my mind already cataloguing how many steps we still may take between our current position and the foolish, rotting wall.

"Who are you?" I pressed.

Elizabeth did not hide her face, as I'd fully expected her to do. Instead, she stared him down as fiercely as I tried to.

Together, we had hope.

"Who are you," I repeated, patience thin.

"Ye don't know me, sir." Arnold waved his pistol. "But ye know me uncle, I reckon."

"And who is he?"

"Miles Wickham, late steward of Pemberley. My cousin could not have steered me wrong."

With that proclamation, he barreled forward - tightening his grip on his weapon until he -

A loud, single gunshot reverberated through the air. Elizabeth crouched into me - I down towards the floor. The smell of gunpowder and muscle and blood mixed in the air. I closed my eyes, anxious to will away any pain, hoping that I had at least shielded my fiancé from the brunt of it all.

"Are you alright, sir? Madame?"

The voice was not Arnold's. It was not Bo's.

I lifted my face gradually, taking care to keep my arms around Elizabeth.

The aftermath, scattered generously around the mostly empty room, compelled me to trace back the source of our salvation.

I stared openly at the pistol in the youngest robber's shaking hands.

"You shot him." I did not ask.

"Yes, sir." There was sorrow in the boy's tones, confusion and regret.

"Did he wrong you?"

"No, sir."

"Did he harm you?"

"No, sir."

"Is there a reason beyond human kindness that compelled you to save us the way you did?" I narrowed my eyes at him. He had always looked innocuous, from the moment of the first attack. Still, I did not trust a man with a weapon as deadly as his.

He shivered where he stood, a skinny silhouette against the afternoon son. I watched him lower his hands until the pistol lay unused by his side.

"King." Elizabeth, surprising me, stepped out of the confines of my bosom. "Thank you for saving us. Was there - a particular reason?"

I watched the wordless exchange with fascination, my legs beginning to give way. I reached out to support myself with the window sill.

"The town mob is here." The young man's voice was weak and small when he spoke. He opened his palm, letting his weapon drop to the floor with a thud. He met Elizabeth's eyes, not mine. "I need - amnesty."

"You have it," I said quickly. The boy looked at me gratefully; Elizabeth flew to my side.

I welcomed her happily, arms open wide.

The young robber, now ally, used his feet to push the bodies of his former conspirators aside.

Relief mingled with pride, hope with exhaustion.

I barely heard the rising voices before the world turned black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are three more chapters planned after this point. There will be some time to process and some time for fluff! Thank you so much to everyone who has been following and supporting this story up until this chapter. I hope you'll stick around until the end!


	8. Chapter 8

"What a day that was!" I did not care that I spoke too loudly given our destitute circumstances. Relief was all I felt - and it was all I was about to express. The authorities may poke at the aftermath all they wish. I was perfectly content sprawled where I was in the sitting room where it had all begun.

"Charles, you scourge us by speaking so happily," Caroline complained - glaring at me across the arm of her chair. She sat straight as a queen, regal despite the dust over her entire person. The way I sat, limbs spread all over my armchair, spoke of the difference in our temperaments more than words could.

My family was safe, Jane was safe, I was safe, and Darcy was said to be recovering from his dead faint by the minute.

"Congratulate me, Caroline." I smiled at my sister despite it all. "I am to be married!"

"Married!"

"My beloved Jane has agreed to grant me her hand in marriage. I shall purchase a special license as soon as it is possible."

"Has she  _entrapped_  you! Are you  _insane_!" Caroline's voice and face were regal no longer.

"I am madly in love, of course." I felt the sentiments I professed in every inch of my being. "There is no one dearer or kinder or prettier to me in the entire world."

"Charles! Whatever possessed you to - "

"Mr. Bingley." Miss Elizabeth emerged, her hands supporting her pale, trembling sister. The stalwart Miss Elizabeth has been rather very helpful in assisting our recuperating guests.

"Jane!" I retrieved my hands and feet from their various directions and quickly rushed to her aid. "Jane - are you well? I - thank you for braving the chill for me."

There was a unique expression - almost like a smirk - on Miss Elizabeth's face when I assisted Jane in her place. I did not ponder overmuch upon it.

"Jane, please - have water." I rushed to procure the healthful fluid as soon as I had helped her upon the chaise. Louisa, now seated beside her, helped me in moving enough flat pillows to raise her frame. "Jane - thank you for your bravery."

I knew, even then, that Caroline stared daggers at the back of my head.

I frankly did not care.

"Jane, darling - please, it shall all be over once we answer all their questions," I tried so keenly to assure her. That she needed time to rest and to recover was clear. Whether we could spare such time amidst the chaos of the villagers' assault upon Netherfield was what I did not know.

Left and right, women and men and children dashed into Netherfield with their sources of suggested help, from food to clothing to coins, before dashing out quite as quickly as they had to run home for more. People I'd known so shortly, as well as people I had not known at all, collaborated to assist my family in overcoming our recent adversity.

I quite liked the countryside.

"The constable shall be down shortly." Footsteps accompanied the announcement. I knew without turning that it was Darcy.

I was thankful, most thankful, indeed, that he accompanied me for this visit.

"Are you well? The wounds and blood and all?" I forced my eyes off Jane to address my friend. My hand still held hers tightly.

Darcy's smile was almost a scoff. "I am well enough."

"You should congratulate me, friend." I could not seem to stop referring to my newly-found happiness. I knew he would rejoice for me. "Jane and I are to be married!"

He did not congratulate me immediately, but he did not mock - which was kindness from him already.

"You are certain?" He asked, eyes narrowed. I noticed he did not cross his arms. Perhaps they were sore.

"I have never been more certain of any choice in my life." I accentuated my declaration with a kiss to Jane's hand. Her weak smile was everything lovely.

"This is not a sudden decision - caused by the urgency of our previous captivity?"

"No, of course not!" I dismissed him immediately. Why would indeed would he think so?

There was silence in the room for another few minutes - interrupted only by Caroline's occasional scoffs and the sound of rustling skirts as Louisa moved to and fro, accepting the villagers' aid.

I nearly forgot that Miss Elizabeth was in the room at all until she spoke.

"Mr. Bingley, we are most grateful for your kindness - but I believe the carriage has arrived to escort Jane and me home."

I sighed unhappily. The separation was inevitable, of course, but still wholly unwelcome.

A second thought entered my mind.

"May we call at Longbourn tomorrow? As early as we could?" I asked the sister who was not currently fainting.

Miss Elizabeth looked rather pale today - but she nodded anyway.

* * *

I had known since Bingley's request last night that I was to accompany him on his call.

What I had not expected was the lightness of heart that the short trek to Longbourn provided. My head and arms still ached from our ordeal, but the healthy exercise proved welcome to my long-constrained bones.

To marry Elizabeth had become a secret wish ever since our first acquaintance. It was a wish that all my mental condemnations could not quench. Recent events, despite their scars on my body, had taken said secret desires and converted them into public declarations.

I frankly could not be happier about the fact.

"Jane!" Bingley's exclamation was entirely too loud for Longbourn's small confines, though it coincided with his energy quite well. "May I seek an audience with your father?"

Miss Bennet, much recovered in her coloring, nodded primly - and Bingley nearly hopped his way towards the study, his bride and her maid at his tail. Mrs. Bennet persisted in her own exultations over our visit. I waited patiently, allowing my friend to have his turn.

It would not do to overwhelm Mr. Bennet so soon after his daughters had returned to their care.

"Miss Elizabeth," I called when there was a lull at last between Mrs. Bennet's words. My fiancée met my eye from a distance. I felt apologetic for not having sought her attention sooner. In atonement, I smiled. "I hope we shall not wait much longer."

A sudden silence descended upon the room. All eyes descended upon my person.

I was confused.

"Miss Elizabeth, shall we not - talk to your father as well?" I knew my smile had already fallen, but I tried my best not to frown.

But frown she did back at me! I wondered briefly is she was one of the stranger sort of women - those who prefer men under peril but not men dressed properly and standing in her house.

"Miss Elizabeth?"

"Mr. Darcy!" It was Mrs. Bennet who responded. I turned, bewildered, to face her. "What could you possibly be talking about? Why should Lizzy talk to her father?"

My mind had barely roused since the haze of the attack's aftermath. Now, it woke violently - shocked and pained.

"Mrs. Bennet." I struggled to maintain my equilibrium. "Given the general knowledge of my friend and Miss Bennet's understanding, I had presumed that my own betrothal with - "

"Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth jumped out of her chair. I looked at her with as much bewilderment as I had previously regarded her mother. "Shall we take a turn about the gardens?"

I blinked stupidly towards her, unsure.

"Kitty, Lydia - do accompany us." She called her sisters without sparing them a single. "Mama, Mary shall keep you company enough as you wait for Papa and Jane and Mr. Bingley to finish. Come, let us go."

And, without another word, Elizabeth grasped my fingers in her left hand, gathered her sisters' with her right - and promptly escorted us all out the door.

* * *

"Elizabeth, dear - shall you stop pacing?"

His words slowed my actions, though did not succeed in ceasing them entirely. I paused only slightly, gathering just enough time to heave a sigh, and then continued.

"Elizabeth!"

"Please, sir - there is no need to call me with such familiarity." I made sure to face away from him when I stopped. My heart was heavy in its turmoil, sad and bereft. My hand clenched the bark of the nearby tree. I would worry over the scratches later.

"Elizabeth, your sisters tarry far behind." He ran after me, stopping only after the leaves under his feet flew against the back of mine. I listened, pained. "There is no need for such formality."

"I am afraid there is, sir." I sighed again - bracing myself with every strength I could muster before I turned to face him. "I'm afraid mere acquaintances do not address each other so."

His eyes were wide when I finally directed my own gaze towards them. He hovered where he stood, a few mere feet away. He blinked rarely and cleared his throat repeatedly.

I wondered if I'd said enough for him to understand.

"Mr. Darcy - "

"Acquaintances?" He was frowning. His eyes seemed to glisten. I did not know what I had done to cause him to react so. "Miss Elizabeth, I fail to understand you. Had you not departed Netherfield yesterday as my betrothed?"

I flinched slightly at his accusation - then braved the battle on.

"I understand that you are an honorable man, sir." I began to look down. The emotions in his eyes were too stormy, too fierce. "I shall have you know that I refuse to entrap your honor. Despite your kindness, I cannot force you to tie yourself to me merely due to the - "

I struggled.

"Merely due to the - the urgency of our recent captivity." I bit my lip when I finished, refusing to cry.

He said nothing.

He stood there, the tips of his boots still as stone, for many arduous minutes.

I blinked my tears away.

"Mr. Darcy, I understand that - "

"Is this because of me?" His voice was cracked, airy.

I met his eye again. "Sir, I fail to understand - "

"You know that my childhood friend-turned-nemesis was behind the attack - and you reject me for it." A solitary tear escaped his right eye. "Elizabeth, I - "

"Sir, I am not  _rejecting_ you!" I leaned closer, surprised he did not understand. "I am  _releasing_ you from your promise, knowing that your marriage prospects are much better than mine."

"And what of the ways I have compromised you?"

"I - you did not - we did - " I licks my lips, then bit them. My own tears were barely contained. "I shall keep mum about our kisses."

"Elizabeth - "

"Mr. Darcy, I cannot bear to think of your marrying me only for duty! You are an upright man, and I - "

"Elizabeth - " He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me close - his face inches from mine. I watched his shifting expressions with fascination.

"Mr. Darcy?"

* * *

"Can you not understand?" I poured my heart into every word, every gaze, every moment. Her face was tantalizingly close, but I must resist - just yet. "Elizabeth, I love you."

She blinked at me, mouth agape.

"Your wit and charm have captivated me since the beginning of our introduction - and have only fastened their grip upon my heart since then. Your bravery, in the face of grave danger, set you far and above any woman I know. Your loyalty to your sister and to me - can only warrant my sincerest respect and admiration for the rest of my days."

She watched me closely, I could tell. I softened my tones.

"You cannot release me without rejecting me, Elizabeth." I grazed the tip of my nose across hers. "My heart shall be broken if you do."

"Mr. Darcy - "

"Yes?"

"You - you - " Her voice faltered, though her eyes did not. "You love me?"

"Most ardently."

"And you - do not regret your - proposal?"

"Not for the world, Elizabeth."

"But what you said to Mr. - Bingley. I had thought - "

"You thought wrong." I pulled her closer, until her body pressed upon mine. "My concerns regarding his easily-wrought emotions do not apply to my own."

"But how would you know - "

"Will you marry me, Elizabeth?"

She gazed at me openly - her eyes drifting to my lips, then my eyes, then my hands, then my lips and eyes again.

"Because you  _want_ to marry me?" She asked.

"Yes - and I can only hope that you do as well."

"Fitzwilliam, I - "

I found hope in her words - then in her smile.

"I would most happily marry you."

The kisses I could not wait to bestow made sure I did not hear whatever else she might wish to say right after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they are all engaged for realsies now! Hurray! I am very torn if I should add two completely useless, all fluff denouement chapters. They're already drafted, but I feel silly for calling them chapters after all the tension in the previous ones. I hope you all wonderful readers will permit me that indulgence!


	9. Chapter 9

"Oh, Lizzy! How can we ever deserve such happiness!" Jane's face flushed as beautifully as her words did. Standing beside her, with the church doors before us, I felt more nervousness than any other emotion. I knew, even glimpsed, my handsome groom standing by the altar - regal and tall - some bruises fading, others healed. Was I ready to voluntarily embark on a lifelong adventure so soon after our fateful one in Netherfield?

"Oh, Lizzy, I hope they do not flee." Jane, incandescent in white, grabbed my arm. "We each have had a rather short courtship, have we not?"

"Your Mr. Bingley was ready to marry you the very night of the assembly!" I teased. "He would never run from you, Jane."

My sister blushed prettily, an epitome of the virginal bride.

"Your Mr. Darcy is not much less smitten, dear." She smiled at me, ever kind.

I lowered my face to hide my own blush.

"Lizzy," she called gently, leaning close.

"Yes?"

"Did Mama - scare you?" The fear in her eyes implied that Mama  _did_ scare her.

Was the threshold of our village church the best place to discuss this topic?

I grabbed her arm gently and leaned beside her ear. "I'm sure all will be well."

"But what if the pain - " Jane swallowed just as the music swelled within the building before us.

I gripped both her hands, taking care to speak low enough to avoid any stray ears.

"Mr. Darcy himself has assured me - " I pulled back at Jane's wide eyes, noticing only then what I had spoken. "I - I mean."

It was by luck alone that the clock struck then, heralding the start of our momentous day.

I would much rather not disclose what Fitzwilliam and I  _had_ discussed.

* * *

The ceremony, though far more crowded than I would have preferred, was solemn enough, simple enough, and blissfully fast enough. The pride in my heart, nearly bursting it and drowning it whole, buoyed my smile until we sat down to indulge in the lavish feast Mrs. Bennet had miraculously procured within weeks, if not days.

Elizabeth, my Elizabeth - my  _wife_  smiled radiantly, her brilliance conquering her sister's without effort. I grasped her hand the entire way to Longbourn. I was relieved to find hers grasping mine back.

"Is the food to your liking, Fitzwilliam?" She whispered by my ear, closely now, in public, as God and law sanctioned her to do.

I brushed my lips against her cheek, satisfied by her subsequent blush. My smile rose again. "I fear I do your mother ill by my true thoughts."

"My mother?" Her eyes carried half parts surprise, half parts worry.

"I fear no matter what dishes she may wish to serve today - I would remember only your lips eating them, and not what they truly taste of." I kissed her knuckles, my body heating most unbecomingly for our current company.

She laughed, sounding nervous. "My mother has done worse."

"Worse?" I leaned close, worried at her choice of words.

The timid look in her eyes as she fidgeted affirmed my cause to worry.

"Elizabeth, please - tell me." I leaned closer. I heard a throat clearing, perhaps Mr. Bennet's. I rejoiced that he no longer held sway. "Are you well?"

She laughed again, her nerves clearly showing now. I pulled our joint hands to my chin, grazing her knuckles with the stubborn stubble on my jaw.

"Elizabeth, you may tell me all." I wished, for the third time today, that we possessed the privacy our careless captors had often granted us. Polite society was nosier than robbers by far!

"My mother was - most enthusiastic - last night."

What happened last night? I felt my brow crease as my feelings did.

Did Mrs. Bennet shock her daughter in a way I cannot fathom? Would this shock serve to rock our marriage the very day of its inception?

"Lizzy," I relished the right to address her thus, "did your mother - "

"Hush, sir!" She cried. When Richard and Miss Lucas diverted their attention from each other towards us, I watched Elizabeth smile politely until they spoke to each other once more.

I was as confused as I was the moment before her rush to quiet my voice.

"Lizzy - what happened?" I turned my body to take both of her hands in mine. For the first of many times, I felt thankful that there was  _another_ wedded pair seated so close to us.

The scrutiny, at least, could be shared.

"Lizzy - "

"Are you - " She nearly squirmed in her seat. I feared her mother noting our inattention to hosting very soon.

I grasped her hands tighter.

"Are you -  _exacting_ , sir?" She met my eyes with her head lowered.

"Exacting?" I fought to maintain my whisper. What  _did_ she mean? "Lizzy, I am unsure what your mother may have said, but I - "

Her laughter, bright and sudden, betrayed her.

She had been teasing all along.

And what was I to do but to shake my head and to laugh with her?

Life itself had been reborn - and I looked forward to our reacquaintance with vigor.

* * *

To feel her pressed against my side, the feeling accented by every jolt of our carriage, warmed me to no end. Jane - my Jane - was the woman I had always wished to marry. Every lady before her had just been a shadow of what was to come.

"Am I heavy?"

She was light as a feather, but she asked so anyway.

"No, not at all." I pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to her brow.

Her face as she joined me at the altar this morning was incandescent. Every stitch of her attire only summoned forth her true beauty.

The greatest reward of all was that she constantly proved as beautiful within as she was without.

In this respect - she was quite unlike my sisters.

"Will Caroline be well at Netherfield without you?" My wife - my  _wife -_ cared so deeply for my undeserving sisters that I could not help love her more.

I nodded against Jane's hair. "It is but a few days. We deserve our solitude in London."

"But we are to depart soon after that - are we not?" She was genuinely curious.

"Yes - for our honeymoon." My eyes nearly misted at the thought.

After years of desolation - I had found her. She's an angel, with the dust of the stars in her eyes.

"Will they be safe?" Jane asked on, from the limitless kindness of her heart.

"The guilty parties have been arrested and shall face prosecution," I assured. "Darcy was quite clear and apologetic about the matter."

"But Caroline said - "

"Please, Jane." I gathered her face in my hands. I smoothed her brow with my thumb. "My sisters shall fare well. Do not worry."

She returned my gaze with a sadness in her eyes.

"You were the bravest of them all, Jane - bearing the cold and the solitude when I fled." I kissed her softly. "Do not fret. All will be well."

* * *

"Oh, Papa, how I shall miss you."

I watched Elizabeth embrace her father, my own heart tight.

I had mourned, for many years, the fact that my own father and mother would never witness my marriage - would never meet the woman to love their son and to bear their grandchildren. Knowing that  _Elizabeth_ was that woman only fueled the sorrow more.

"He looks taken enough with you that I may yield you begrudgingly, dear." Mr. Bennet was rather eloquent today. Still, his eyes clearly glistened. "I shall visit you quite often enough that you cease to invite me."

"Oh, Papa, if only you would!" She cried as well, her arms resting on her father's. "Oh, Papa, it has been too fast, too short."

"Yes, it has." He patted the side of her head. Mixed emotions rose within me. "But he seems to love you - and I take comfort in that."

Elizabeth nodded mutely. My own sorrows threatened to ruin my serenity.

"The briefness of your acquaintance may be at the forefront of many minds - but I trust your hearts are fully engaged despite the brevity of it all." My new father looked directly at his daughter - and then at me. "I choose to trust in the odds of your happiness."

"As well you should, sir." I stepped forward then, anxious to be included in their familial exchanges. "I swear, on my very life, that nothing but the highest happiness of your daughter shall direct my choices hence forth and forever."

He seemed to smile, to appear almost bemused. "Of course - son."

The single word and its power drew true tears from my eyes.

"Thank you, Mr. Bennet. Your trust is wholly treasured and revered. I cannot - "

"Fitzwilliam." Elizabeth hugged me, and I gladly hugged her back.

The display of affection, thank God, did not seem to bother her father.

I held her tightly, near and dear to my heart. My tears slowed beneath her fingers.

"I shall seek your counsel, sir, as often as you would allow," I addressed her father, though my arms still held her. "No creature knows the source of Elizabeth's moods more than you would."

Mr. Bennet laughed, eyes as mischievous as his daughter's tend to be. "We shall see how you fare, son - and  _then_ we may discuss how to handle her right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was fluffy and just teasing enough for this story! Thank you for everyone's patience. I appreciate the support so, so much.
> 
> P.S. For everyone still waiting for updates regarding my books on Amazon, I'm still trying to get through some work to have them republished. Thank you, lovelies, for the patience! I'm also trying to rework Switched to have it published before the end of the year. It's going to be a very busy road to Christmas!


	10. Chapter 10

**_Twelve Months Later_ **

* * *

The floor felt solid despite the additional weight I carried, but Charles assisted me rapidly to the nearest chair as he was wont to do. The furnishing was inevitably sparse. Until the items we'd ordered arrived, our hopes and dreams would have to fill the many halls and rooms instead.

"Do you like it, Jane?" My husband was as solicitous as ever.

I smiled, glad and not nearly as overwhelmed as I had feared. "It is wonderful, Charles. You have chosen well."

He looked bashful at the compliment.

I did love him so.

"Darcy did most of the assessing, of course," Charles muttered, ever modest. I gestured for him to occupy the couch beside me. It was growing more difficult to strain my neck - or to strain anything at all - with every day closer to my confinement. "I am merely happy that the estate was put up for sale at all. The family used to utilize it frequently."

"It must be Providence."

"Yes." Charles smiled, boyish despite the pressures of the past months. Caroline had  _not_ been happy to be installed by herself in the North. "I am most grateful, Jane. A wife, a child to come, and an estate in gorgeous Derbyshire - what more could I want?"

I smiled back, warm and beloved. "The passage was not too difficult."

"Only because you are strong." He clasped my hands. "A lesser woman would not have braved the journey with such gusto."

"I am not overly far along."

"But our child is strong - as you are." His palm soothed over my belly. The gesture filled me with bliss, as it did every time.

"Beechbury Grove is let at last!" A loud, happy female voice echoed from the entrance. I lifted my eyes to greet Elizabeth's smile. She ran over, joy in her step. "I simply  _knew_ you would choose Derbyshire in the end."

My sister stooped beside me to greet the child I carried. I laughed as she pretended to speak to it through my skin.

"Darcy - what a pleasure. Thank you." My husband greeted hers with perfect male politeness. I smiled at the picture the four of us painted.

"Is the place much to your liking, Mrs. Bingley?" Elizabeth's husband was just as polite to me.

"Very much so. Thank you for assisting us in the process." I smiled, feeling every drop of gratefulness I professed.

"It was my pleasure," he assured. "And my wife's, I am sure."

Elizabeth giggled, youthful as ever, and skipped back to her husband's side before hugging him closely.

Charles and I both smiled.

"Have all entrances been secured?" This master of Pemberley, unannounced and casual, was a very different person from the Mr. Darcy who had scowled in Meryton a year ago. "I know you worry."

"How could I not, Darce?" Charles lamented. Worry sprung anew all over his face. "If it were just Jane and I - then perhaps I may rest easy. Knowing that she is increasing and unable to flee - I cannot bear if we were called to face what we had faced before."

"George Wickham has been apprehended and adequately punished. There is no cause for alarm."

"Oh, but what if there was! Is Derbyshire safe?"

Lizzy, with her smile and her stride, was everything reassuring. "Brother dear, you have scaled a home before. Surely, you have no reason to fear you would not be able to scale this one?"

* * *

"Oh, I do hope they are happy with it." I leaned back against the back of the chaise. It was my favorite spot of the room - just close and far enough from the fireplace. "I cannot forgive myself if my selfishness in wishing they settle close to Pemberley were to lead them to a place they don't truly desire."

"Mr. and Mrs. Bingley looked happy enough," my husband assured me.

He was handsome in everything, I had come to find - in evening coats and riding wear, in shirt sleeves or in nothing at all.

I bit my lip, feeling sly. "And are  _you_ happy, sir?"

"Happy? Why ever should I not be?" He pulled my hand towards him and kissed it. "I am married to the bravest, handsomest, smartest woman in all of England. There truly is no reason for discontent."

"And what of children?" I half teased, half tested. I rejoiced for Jane and Bingley - truly I did. Seeing her expecting her child so soon, however, had stirred emotions in me that I disliked.

"We shall have them in due time." Fitzwilliam was certain.

I sat up and leaned against him. "I had hoped, by now, that the echoes of our child's laughter would fill the halls of Pemberley. Even Georgiana said - "

"Lizzy, do not worry." He kissed my cheek, and then my brow. "Not all good things come quickly."

"But my mother - "

" _My_ own father and mother waited years before I arrived - and another many years before Georgiana did. I would not worry."

I lifted my head until I met his eyes. The honesty in them was entirely unaffected. "It comes so easy to many."

"But it is no punishment that it comes harder to us."

"Is life not meant to be happy?" I was petulant today - childish, even.

My husband held me close nonetheless. "My life  _is_ happy, Lizzy. I have Georgiana. I have Pemberley. I have  _you_. There is little else in the universe that could make me happier."

"Not even an heir?"

"Having a son would bring us both joy, I believe." He counseled me gently, his hands threading through my fast-unraveling hair. "But there is no guilt in waiting. God knows we've waited little in everything else."

I giggled then, slightly cheered. "Our engagement was not long - I know."

"And I thank God every day that it was not."

I laughed when the shadows of his oncoming beard tickled my jaw.

"There is no shame, Elizabeth, is working  _slightly_ harder for what we desire." I sat completely on his lap now, where I'd always belonged.

"I suppose one could say so." I kissed his cheek. The same shadows tickled my lips. "Except, I think, the process could hardly be called  _hard work_."

I squealed when he lifted me without another word - and I laughed when he transported us forthwith towards the master suite. The servants scrambled away, as they knew they ought to do. The wounds of the past had left scars; instead of weakness, however, they had only conceived further strength in him.

I giggled when the assault on my jaw began anew, my back now supported by the softness of his bed.

It did not take long for me to reciprocate his bodily exploration.

Given the perilous circumstances that had begun our courtship -  _this_ activity was not remotely difficult - no, not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there goes the end of my story. I hope you have enjoyed it! It is by choice that I try to give ODC different happy endings in each story. I believe happy endings come in various different forms in real life, and I try to explore each version in turn. I plan to start posting another new multi-chapter work again soon, which I hope you guys will enjoy too. Thank you so, so, so much to everyone who has been kind enough to read and support this story. Your comments and kudos and bookmarks mean the world to me!


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